


These highschool friends haven't met in years, what happens next will warm your heart!

by FoxInDocs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Airman!Cas, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, I tried to write porn, Inspired by Music, Kinda, M/M, Mechanical engineer!Dean, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry, plot without porn, sort of, then I chickened out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 12:46:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxInDocs/pseuds/FoxInDocs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based on the song Satellite by OneDollarShort (it kinda got away from me). </p>
<p>Dean and Cas have been friends forever, but drifted apart after high school. When Dean moves to a new city for his new job they meet again unexpectedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These highschool friends haven't met in years, what happens next will warm your heart!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago, when I got to the point that I had envisioned as "the end", I decided it seemed like a really good beginning to something. I have other ideas as to where this might lead, but as I haven't added anything to it in months, I figured I'd post it here as is. I might add to it later if I feel like it, or if it happens to get a ridiculous amount of kudos and everyone wants more of it or something, but I'm not making any promises.

Finally the last box. Dean doesn’t have a lot of stuff, but it’s still taken him two solid days to unpack it all. He didn’t want to leave boxes still packed to sort out who knows when, better to just get it out of the way. Now that he has a real apartment all of his own, he’s taken all of his things out of storage, and he’s spent the last two days going through it all. He’s thrown a lot of stuff out, but he’s found a few mementos from his past that he’s used to make his new apartment feel like home. This box contains things from his old room at home as a teenager. He tosses a couple of old trophies  into the trash can next to him, then flicks through a bunch of rolled up posters. He decides to get three of them framed to hang in his new living room. An old photo is sitting loose on top of a pile of what appears to be certificates and report cards. Turning it over, he sinks back into the couch and takes a swig of his beer as he examines it.

 

It’s a photo from one of his birthday parties, it looks like he might have been in maybe fourth grade. It’s the obligatory shot of him blowing out candles on his birthday cake. He smiles, remembering. That had been a good party, everyone dressed up, and he’d got a tonne of presents. He’s dressed as Superman in the photo, this was obviously before he’d discovered Batman. His best friend, Cas, is standing  beside him, dressed as a star. He remembers that Cas had been obsessed with astronomy at the time and huffs a laugh to himself. 

 

“Nerd” He mutters fondly, placing the photo off to the side with the posters.  The rest of the box doesn’t take too long to unpack; a couple of sweaters that won’t fit him anymore go in the bag to be donated tomorrow, and the rest of it, being mainly junk, goes in the bin.

 

When he’s finally done, Dean takes the photo as he heads to his room, leaving it on his nightstand as he undresses for the shower. Once he’s rid himself of the dust and grime from a day of unpacking, and comfortable again, Dean falls into bed, leaving the window open and the curtains thrown wide, enjoying the view of the night sky and the stars that Cas had taught him about all those years ago. He picks up the photo again, wondering what Cas is doing with himself these days. When they both moved away, Dean off to college to study automotive engineering, and Cas to join the Air Force, they had of course promised to keep in touch, to write, to call. And they had, for a long time. But as is wont to happen, commitments got in the way, calls and letters were exchanged less and less frequently, until they’d stopped altogether. Dean always meant to write or to call, but as the time got away from him, it felt more and more awkward to do so. He wondered if Cas ever still thought about him the way Dean was doing now.

 

Gazing at the photo in his hand Dean is reminded, by Cas’ star costume, of the cute little valentines cards Cas used to give him when they were children. Never the standard heart shapes, they were always themed with whatever Cas’ latest nerdy obsession was, stars, or bees, once there was even a guinea pig shaped one. It was sweet. He remembers Cas promising that when they grew up they’d get married. Dean had never had the heart to tell him he didn’t swing that way, and now that he was older, he realised if he had, it would have been a lie.

 

Dean wakes the next morning with the photo still in his hand. Shaking his head at his own sappiness, he tosses it on the nightstand and goes about his day. He starts his new job next week and he has a few things to organize before then. He still can’t believe he’s managed to score his dream job as an engineer at Singer Restorations and Kustoms, a prestigious restoration and hot-rod garage; it’s well known as the best restoration garage in the country, and people bring their cars from hundreds of miles away to be restored there.

  
  


It’s the end of his first week at his new job, and Dean joins the rest of the crew at a local bar for a few beers after work. As he enters, Dean’s surprised to find it’s a pretty classy place, given the relatively industrial area, but when he considers the clientele at Singer’s and  and some of the surrounding businesses, he decides it’s not that surprising after all. Singer’s isn’t the only Kustom business in the area, and the bar seems to have attracted that culture; a red-haired woman with short bangs and tall heels eyes him up and down as he makes his way through the crowd. He can see why the guys like the place. 

 

A rowdy cheer erupts at the back of the room, garnering Dean’s attention. The noise had come from a large group of guys in military looking outfits, there must be a base nearby. He realises he’s going to have to keep a tight lid on his urges tonight; he’s not sure how some of his co-workers would react to finding out about his bisexuality, and while there are plenty of good looking women in the bar, he knows from experience he finds it hard to resist a man in uniform.

 

Later, as he waits at the bar, the woman he’d noticed earlier sidles up to him.

 

“You’re a difficult man to get alone,” she smiles.   
  


“Hey, if I’d known you were waiting, I’d have come away sooner.” Dean replies, flashing his cockiest grin.   
  
“I’m Josie” she introduces herself   
  
“Dean” he smiles, “Dean Winchester.”   
  
There’s a clatter behind him and a sticky wetness is running down the back of his leg even as he hears the sound of smashing glass. 

 

“What the Hell, man!?” Dean turns to find out who’s just spilled what feels like several drinks into his shoes. He’s halted by blue eyes, widened in confusion and alarm. “Son of a bitch” he breathes, “...Cas?”

 

“I… Dean… I’m… Sorry... about the drink” Cas stammers, “I mean… what are you doing here?”   
  
“Don’t worry about it, man,” Dean says, waving to the bartender for a cleanup, “I just started working at a garage around the corner, Singer’s Restorations…I… what about you? I didn’t even know there was a base here until I saw all these guys in here tonight.” Dean asks gesturing to Cas’s crisp blue uniform

 

“Oh! Ah, celebrating, actually.” Cas’ face relaxes into a soft smile, “We.. I just got my wings.”

 

"Hey! Congratulations man!" Dean replies, genuinely happy for his old friend. From behind him, Josie clears her throat, obviously impatient. 

 

"Sorry, Josie," Dean apologizes, turning to her, "this is Cas, we went to school together, haven't seen him in years!"

 

Cas and Josie greet politely, before Cas excuses himself. 

 

"I'd better get these drinks back to the guys, and I um, don't want to keep you from your lady friend."

 

"Yeah, yeah, of course, good... good to see you man."

 

"You too Dean." Castiel turns, and Dean watches as he heads back to his table.   
  
Turning his attention back to Josie, Dean, realizing he still has no way to contact Cas, and feeling awkward after their exchange, suddenly doesn’t feel like socializing anymore. 

 

“I’d actually better do the same,” he tells her, gathering up the beer bottles lined up in front of him. “Sorry hon,” and without waiting for her response he hurries back to where his co-workers are gathered. Once there, he finishes his beer quickly and makes his excuses, conveniently citing sticky jeans and a soggy shoe.   
  
As he exits the bar heading toward the parking lot, he notices a figure crouched at the far corner of the building, and as he draws closer realises that it’s Castiel. He slides himself down the wall to crouch beside his friend, and without looking up, Cas hands his cigarette to Dean.

 

“Thought you quit.” Dean says, taking a drag, and handing it back.

 

“Desperate times…”

 

“Hm. What’s up?”

 

“Oh, you know, I just made an idiot of myself in front of this guy I used to know."

 

Dean huffs a laugh, "it's fine man, really, I could never think you're an idiot."   
  
“No?” Cas looks up at him, skepticism written all over his face.

 

“‘Course not, you were my best friend. Still are really…”

 

Cas hums grudging acceptance and goes back to staring at the reflections in his parade boots. 

 

“Hey,” Dean nudges Cas’ shoulder with his own, “you have to be back on base or something?” 

 

“I have leave for tonight and tomorrow, I hadn’t planned on using it though, why?”   
  
“Lets go get drunk,” says Dean, standing and holding out a hand to help up Cas.    
  
Cas takes the proffered hand and Dean hauls him to his feet, “Dean, I don’t really feel like going back in there…”   
  
“Me either man, some jerk spilled drinks all over me, my shoes are all sticky.” Cas groans at the reminder of his earlier embarrassment, and Dean smirks. “Come see my apartment? We can catch up some, and the drinks are cheaper anyway.”

 

Cas only nods his agreement and follows Dean to the Impala.

 

Dean tosses his keys in a bowl and flips on the lights as they enter his apartment.

 

“It’s not much” he shrugs, indicating the sparse furniture, “I just moved in a couple weeks ago.”   
  
“I like what you’ve done with the posters, are they the same ones you had in your room?”

 

Dean quirks an eyebrow questioningly

 

“No really, it’s very you, but grown-up” Cas smiles warmly.

 

“Well, then, thanks,” Dean grins, “hey, make yourself at home, I’m gonna go change out of these sticky clothes, pour yourself a drink,” he waves toward the kitchen, “put on a movie or something if you want. Remote’s on the coffee table.”

 

When Dean returns from his room, wearing black sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, the title screen for _ Return Of The Jedi _ is showing on his TV screen, there are two glasses of whiskey on the coffee table and Cas is perched awkwardly on the couch. “I, um, left out some sweats for you, if you wanna change?” Dean offers, “as tempting as you look in that uniform, it can’t be super comfortable. I hope that’s not a weird thing to offer”

 

“Of course not Dean, it’s not as though I’ve never worn your clothes before” Cas tilts his head, and a confused little smile plays across his face as he moves towards Dean’s room.

 

Dean shakes his head to himself as he heads to the kitchen, 'tempting'? Did he really just fucking say that? He starts pulling a few things out of the fridge to make sandwiches. He hasn't eaten anything but a few peanuts since lunch time, and he doesn't imagine Cas has either. Cas does look pretty damn good in that uniform though, he considers, now throwing a bag of popcorn in the microwave to cook while he assembles the sandwiches, but you don’t just say things like that to a guy (your best friend!) who you haven’t seen in years!

 

He's slicing a tomato when Cas enters the room again, all low slung sweats and sex-hair. How does he get away with that? The air force must have relaxed their uniform standards, it's shorter than it was when they were teenagers, but still. Cas sits on the stool by the breakfast bar, and Dean tears his eyes away from that beautiful disaster when he realizes Cas is pushing something across the counter toward him. He looks down and recognizes the photo that he found whilst unpacking. 

 

"Oh, hey, I found that in the box with the posters when I was unpacking." 

 

"It was on your nightstand"

 

"Yeah." Dean agrees nonchalantly (he hopes), avoiding the unasked question in Cas' voice. They lapse into comfortable silence as Dean finishes putting together the sandwiches, and retrieves the popcorn from the microwave, dumping it in a large bowl. Handing the bowl to Cas, he pockets the photo before grabbing the plate of sandwiches and heading back to the living room, Cas following close behind.

 

Dean lets Cas pass him in the doorway and, once he’s put the popcorn bowl down on the coffee table, asks him to flick on a lamp. Dean turns off the overhead light and they’re left with the lamp’s warm glow. They settle themselves on the couch, the sandwiches perched precariously on the cushion between them. Dean props the photo up against the lamp on the side-table.

 

“I didn’t want it to get ruined” he tells Cas, in response to a questioning look. They start the movie, the volume’s low enough for conversation, but they eat their sandwiches in silence anyway.   
  
“Thanks,” Cas says around his last mouthful, “I was starving.”

 

Dean huffs a laugh, “no problem, dude, so was I.” He reaches forward depositing the plate on the table and swapping it for the popcorn bowl, almost spilling popcorn everywhere when the bowl won’t sit properly where the plate did. He shuffles closer to Cas, wedging the bowl between their thighs. He grabs his glass of whisky from the table as well, before leaning back and propping his feet up on the table.   
  
“I didn’t think you liked like Star Wars?” He says, for the sake of breaking the silence. Not that it’s uncomfortable; in fact, it’s like they were never apart, but he’s missed his friend and wants to know what he’s been up to.

 

“I don’t mind it,” Cas shrugs, “I like the Ewoks in this one.” He reaches for his glass and makes himself comfortable as well, mirroring Dean in putting his sock-clad feet up on the table.

 

“So, um, I noticed you didn’t call anyone to say where you were going; you’re not seeing anyone?”

 

Cas drops his eyes to stare into his whiskey, swirling it in the glass, “I was… there was someone. Balthazar was a really great guy, I really thought we had something, but it turns out he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”   
  
“Oh. Man, that sucks.” Dean feels genuinely sorry for his friend.

 

“Yeah.” Cas agrees, downing the rest of his whiskey in one swallow. “What about you, Dean?”   
  
“I, um… You know me, I never settle down. I had a few semi-serious… partners… but nothing that ever lasted more than 12 months.” Reaching for the whiskey, Dean refills Cas’ glass and tops off his own. “Lisa was great, she really got me, you know? But she had a kid, and I guess our priorities were just different. And Benny,” He stops. “um…” well, that’s one way to come out of the fucking closet isn’t it? Now it’s Dean’s turn to gulp his drink.    
  
Cas just stares, blank-faced, waiting.    
  
“he just…. found something more interesting… got bored... easily.” He finishes lamely.   
  
“He.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Dean, I thought…”   
  
“So did I, Cas, so did I. For a long time.”   
  
“Huh.” Cas concludes, grabbing a handful of popcorn. He turns  his gaze back to the TV, alternating eating his popcorn one by one from his fist, with sips of whiskey.   
  
Dean downs the rest of his whiskey, placing his glass on the side-table, then grabs some popcorn himself, just to have something to do with his hands. 

 

A long silence and two short glasses of whiskey later, Dean reaches for another handful of popcorn. As his own fingers close over the fluffy kernels of salty goodness, suddenly other, longer and more slender fingers are wrapping around his palm. Eyes flickering from the TV to his hand, he registers a sharp intake of breath from the man next to him and meets wide blue eyes and flushed cheeks.

 

"Sorry!" Cas exclaims, yanking his hand back "Sorry, I wasn't looking, I didn't mean to - " 

 

"I know. Cas, it's fine, I didn't think - not that it - " Dean falls silent, feeling heat rising to his own cheeks. He swallows his whiskey again, well on his way to their original plan of getting drunk, but somehow having less fun than he’d intended. “Cas?”   
  
“Mm?”   
  
“What happened?”   
  
“How do you mean?” He looks up again.   
  
“When I lost my phone, I wrote to tell you. You never called, or wrote back.”   
  
“Oh,” Cas sighed dropping his head back against the couch “that. I just... thought it would be easier, Dean.” he admits.

 

Easier. Well of course it would be, Dean supposes. Cas would have had a lot going on, combat training, studying, and he had to shift bases more than once, Dean knows. Obviously he made new friends too. It hurts, he had thought he’d meant enough to Cas that he’d make time for him, but long distance relationships of any kind take a lot of work, and it’s true he’s not worth that sort of effort.

 

“Dean?” He realises he’s staring.

 

“I need some air.” He stands, pouring himself another drink, and pads across the room and out through the glass door leading onto his small balcony. He can feel Cas’ eyes on him the whole time. He leans back against the railing anyway, closing his eyes against the glow of the city lights below, breathing deeply. It doesn’t help.

 

A moment later he hears the door slide open and closed again, but Cas remains silent, leaning against the wall opposite.

 

“I thought our friendship meant more to you, Cas.” His voice as small as he felt. “I mean, I know you grew up, and we weren’t as close as when we were kids even before we left, but-”   
  
“Dean what’re you… of course we were still close.”   
  
Eyes still closed, Dean can’t face his friend. “you… stopped holding my hand… and you didn’t come around as much.”   
  
“I thought you were straight Dean, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“So what, I couldn’t even handle being friends with a gay guy!? And then… I know I wasn’t always perfect.. but ‘it was easier’? I… I missed you man.”   
  
“No, Dean, it wasn’t-” Suddenly there are hands on his hips, and shocked green eyes meet blue “It wasn’t that, I just needed to let go of what I couldn’t have. But I’m starting to get the idea that maybe what I wanted wasn’t quite so unobtainable?”

 

Dean’s not sure who kisses whom, but warm, chapped lips are against his own, and his world stops. Nothing matters but the rough hands snaking up his back beneath his shirt and the soft hair threaded between his fingers.

  
Soon they’re stumbling back through the glass door, frantic hands and gentle mouths as Dean awkwardly places his empty glass back on the coffee table before falling back onto the couch and dragging Cas down to straddle his lap.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to Faeryn and cuddle-me-carl for their encouragment and critique.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.


End file.
